


Seven Dirty Words

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Mouth [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Humiliation, M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't act ashamed now," he continued, quietly, gathering breath because he needed to concentrate to keep himself from shoving Jim onto the sofa and getting them both arrested with ASBOs. "If you're willing to go down on your knees in an alley, it's not really a big secret."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Dirty Words

Everything was a game in the end, even coffee. Dinner, breakfast, it was all games. Sleeping through the night was a game; games were particularly games, but sometimes he managed to win a little. He was sure that soon enough it'd turn to losing, but Bastian hadn't taken much prodding.

All he had to do was slouch into a coffee shop, and act appropriately like an arse until Jim said stop and actually meant it. If he ever meant it.

The unlikelihood of that lingered on the back of his tongue, gave a certain taste that appealed to him greatly. The sight of Jim curled coquettishly into a ridiculous couch that nearly swallowed him whole made Bastian's dick get hard.

It was ridiculous, perhaps, but also utterly delicious.

He lifted his chin when he saw Jim curled there like the too fucking hip to live little shit he'd never been, a greeting and a dismissal all at once as he headed for it. "Hey, baby. You order something for me?"

Oh, that little curl of lip was all invitation and eagerness to please, nothing he ever got when Jim was Jim... unless he wanted to give it. Bastian was fully aware of where he stood in the scheme of things most of the time. Most, but this... ah, not so much. "Of course I did, darling. I know just what you like."

"Let's see if you got it right this time," he muttered, lifting his eyebrows happily at Jim as he settled in beside him on the sofa. "How was your day?"

"Terrible." The Rs rolled from his tongue, a trill of sound, and he moved himself in more closely to Bastian. "I'm sure you can imagine. Tony was an utter bastard all day long. The annoying thing is that he seems to think we're all blind and don't notice that he's sleeping with Sherry. Usually in the supply closet."

"People are weird about shit like that. They think they're getting one over on you. I'm dead tired." He picked up his coffee, shifted in faintly closer. The key to really getting it right was getting the slow build quirked just so. A steady progression, and Jim hummed, bringing his own cup to his lips and sipping. He looked up at Bastian from beneath sparse lashes, the dark glint of his eyes an invitation, a little plea.

If he looked at it just right, he might even manage to believe it was a plea for kindness; for him not to make a scene or... whatever, which was impossible, and unbelievable, because Jim never pled for kindness. He took a sip of his coffee. "Were you going out with the girls again tonight?"

"I thought I might." That look was... it was fucking adorable. All primly pursed lips and ducked head, and it made Bastian want to reach out and steal him, take his mouth and eat him alive in a kiss. "Andrea called, and...."

"I feel like I hardly ever see you sometimes." He leaned in, reaching to hover threateningly close to kissing Jim. There was body to body contact, and Bastian made sure to take as much space as possible, to domineer. To be the one on top, because Jim topped from fucking below all the time, and the opportunity to do this was a great deal of fun.

The way Jim pulled away just a few millimeters, not quite a cringe, made a bright strike of cruelty spark along his nerves. "Oh, I... I could, I could stay home. If you'd rather."

"Andrea can party by herself for a night, sweetie," he smiled, sliding an arm around Jim's shoulders. Sometimes it just felt good to make Jim feel like nothing. Like a little angry fucking Irish pocket pet. "How was work?"

"Oh." That little gnawing motion, teeth on his lower lip. Mmm. "It was not so bad. I did run into Molly again." Poking at a sleeping dragon, that was.

"Seriously? What did I fucking tell you about seeing her? She's your _ex_." He was keeping his voice quiet, barely tamped down anger as he just held onto his coffee cup. Just let that feeling roil around in his head, remembering Jim talking about _Glee_ and spending evenings not running their goddamned crime empire, but pretending to have the emotional tastes of a teenage girl.

One hand waved, a little frantic in the motion. "Darling. Darling, exactly, she's my ex, and, and I have a _job_. I did put in for the transfer, just like you asked, and I try not to go down to the...."

"You're damn right you're not going _down_ anywhere near her," Bastian muttered, taking a slow sip of his coffee. It tasted like sugar, sugar and curdled soy milk. "I'm sorry. You just know what -- what the fuck is this?"

Oh, that was a delicious look, horror, an edge of fear. It made him hard just seeing it, and he pressed his lips together grimly. "I told them, I said you wanted a half-caff soy triple latté, I..."

He swallowed, and pulled away to set the coffee on the low table in front of the sofa. Then he stopped, and held it out to Jim instead. "No, you know what? I think you do this on purpose. Every time you order it, I get curdled soy shit. You drink it."

He knew Jim hated that shit -- Jim Moriarty, not Jim from I.T. His nostrils flared, and for a second, Bastian thought he would get the kind of response that would tell him to get fucked. Instead, Jim backed down, glancing around to see who was watching. "I'll buy you another one, darling, I..."

"No, no, just drink it," Bastian pressed, in a _brook no arguments_ tone of voice. "And then you'll learn."

He was aware of eyes on them both, of the way that the couple across the way were quiet in a manner that meant they were listening. "Honestly, you know that I hate soy, and I can just...."

"Drink it." Oh. Oh, that was a visceral reaction, nearly undetectable pupils dilating in Jim's dark eyes. There was no need to look and see that he was just as hard, although half the damn coffee shop could tell if they bothered looking.

They weren't -- who got off on being snapped at in public, right? Except sitting there, watching Jim's muted cowed gorgeous expression as he took the cup obediently, and Jim was never fucking obedient to Sebastian, or cowed, or crushed unless he wanted to be. His mouth curled a little as he took a sip, lips lingering as he swallowed. "Yeah, you know what that tastes like? All clotty and fucking protein and a little sour? You know what it tastes like, you dirty little cumslut," Bastian hissed, leaning in as if he was whispering, but failing completely and utterly.

The red stain that worked its way across Jim's nose was a delicious humiliation in and of itself. The tremble of that full lower lip, the way he drew in a shaky breath, god. God, that was... they were going to have to do this more often. "Sebastian."

"Don't act ashamed now," he continued, quietly, gathering breath because he needed to concentrate to keep himself from shoving Jim onto the sofa and getting them both arrested with ASBOs. "If you're willing to go down on your knees in an alley, it's not really a big secret."

Oh. Oh, fuck. That glisten, he wasn't going to be able to help himself. "But you asked, you wanted me to...." God, that was fucking hot. He wasn't going to be able to wait to go home and nail the fucking shit out of him.

"And you were fucking gorgeous like that. So why shouldn't I bring it up?" Turn it around, make it seem like flattery, make everyone in that place squirm with Jim, for Jim, sweet little abused mick and his horrible chav boyfriend. "The drool on your chin when I fucked your throat?" He shifted a little, had to. It was that or reach down and adjust himself, and that time might come.

"We're in public." Shaky, that murmur, and when he raised the cup again and sipped, Jim almost gagged, body shifting in a way that suggested he might not manage to hold it back. "Please, Basty. Please."

"Oh, come on," Bastian whispered, leaning in to brush his mouth against Jim's temple, hard enough to fuck a hole through the table, to drag Jim around the back to fuck his throat just like they were talking about. "You like it like that."

God, he did, too. Loved being on his knees like a dirty slut, would probably want to be nailed before they got home. Wouldn't care if it hurt, either. That sniffle, the way he trembled, it was the best lie, so fucking hot, and then Jim shifted and sipped again, coughing in reaction. Bastian could feel the tremor in him, and then there was another shaky respiration and fuck. This shouldn't turn him on as much as it did, or his sister would probably say as much.

Bastian wiped a thumb at the side of Jim's face, still so far into his space that they were talking up half the sofa. "Don't get yourself all worked up, sweetie. I promise I'll give you a reward when we get home, all right? Make it up to you with my thick dick and your tight little arse."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," he heard someone say, and Jim stiffened and glanced over, giving the woman a look somewhere between pleading and demanding, one that maybe begged a little for her not to say anything.

When he spoke, his voice was tiny in a way that Jim's voice never was. "Please, Basty."

Ngh. It was worth it for the way Jim was horrified, face reddening unpleasantly now, the blotch over his nose spreading like a butterfly across his cheeks, creeping down his neck. It was the other meaning to hot and bothered, the one Bastian liked best. "Take your coffee and let's go."

Yes, god, and Jim didn't question him, didn't even suggest that they might not do exactly what Bastian wanted to do. Sometimes, it felt good just to win a little, enough that they would have to do this more often. The half-caff soy latte crap was firmly in Jim's hand, as if that were his now, and he looked away, licking his lips. "All right."

He nicked Jim's actual coffee in a final motion of triumph, and his hand slid back far enough along Jim's skinny backside that he brushed the band of his underwear as Jim got up. "I think you can call the girls and tell them you're busy tonight."

"Yes, Basty." God, that was just. He didn't think that he would manage to hold it until they got home. Hell, he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold it. He was going to find every CCTV he could, wave to Mycroft fucking voyeur Holmes, and then have Jim mewling up against the wall. He was going to enjoy it while it held, and make sure that anyone who wanted to see him fuck Jim got the best view in the damn world. 

He gave Jim a little push as they made it just towards the door, while he uttered, "Fuck, I'm going to have to fuck you behind the bins."

"Oh, god." God, and his voice was shaking, but his knees were steady and they were moving faster now, even if that woman kept looking at him with the dirtiest expression imaginable. That just made him harder, made him push Jim a little to get him to trip as he shifted, shoved him round the corner.

Narrow disused alleyway, perfect spot, perfect location, Jim'd probably already checked all the angles knowing, guessing, what Bastian might do. Except he probably didn't bet on Bastian clamping an arm around Jim's upper back, twisting his back towards the street, or that he'd press the drinking spout of the coffee lid against the small of Jim's back and pour it against Jim's skin, down his crack. "Now why don't you look over your shoulder and wave to fucking Holmes, Jimmy."

Jimmy. _Jimmy_ , and that hitch of breath could be mistaken as a sob from anyone else, anyone in the world. In Jim, it was probably hidden laughter, and he struggled for a moment, fighting hard against Bastian's grip before he gave in, shuddering and looking back. The smile that broke his mouth was dirty and a little crazy, and then he lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers just the way Bastian wanted him to do it.

"Atta boy." He dropped the coffee cup, empty now, in the alley, and slid his hand to follow the trail of wet. Bastian stretched his middle finger, pressed against coffee wet asshole, curled it into Jim without taking extra time to tease. "You know he wanted you, Jimmy. He probably lies in his bed at night and dreams about fucking you senseless, having you over one of those interrogation tables, fucking you until you cried, you and your goddamned unbelievable Bambi eyes..."

If Bambi had torched the forest himself.

Jim was pushing his ass back to Bastian's hand, thighs spread but caught up in the way his waistband had settled. His fucking underwear alone cost enough to feed a third world family for two weeks, and they were stained with the ridiculous coffee shit, and that wouldn't be nearly enough to lube him. Not really.

"How much did you want it then, huh, you slut? How much did you want for Holmes to just break down and do it, because the moment he did, the moment you had him in your filthy mouth, your tight little ass, you knew you'd have him for fucking ever..." He would've paid good money to see it, too, made sure it was a good copy before he bashed in the man's head . He moved his hand enough to haul Jim up onto his tiptoes to keep stretching from sliding to pain he didn't want. He walked them backwards towards the wall. "Tell me how much you want me in you."

"Bastian. Sebastian!" He was gasping, riding that touch, his entire body taut, back tense. "Bastian, please, please, oh, baby, yeeeess..." Yes, just like that, and it was funny how this sort of thing made Jim so fucking wanton. A hot, slicing thought, furious, slipped through Bastian, that either of the Holmes brothers would be honestly fighting him now instead of getting off on it. It was nearly painful to consider and yet neither of them would ever be able to give him this. Neither of them could be Sebastian.

"You want all of me?" He leaned in, and bit at the edge of Jim's jaw, while he twisted and squirmed with every muscle in his body until he was backed up against rough cement, scraping beneath the fabric of his scrawny thin t-shirt. "Shoved up that tight little ass and for showing the world, Jimmy?"

"Yes!" As if there could be no question of the answer, as though that were the only answer there was or ever could be. "Christ's fucking sake, would you please fucking fuck me now?"

Beautiful. Jim was beautiful like that, mouthy and angry and halfway panting from want and displaced anger. "Shove your trousers down."

Push, shove, scramble, and Jim's hands were tangling in his jeans as he worked to get them down, his pants getting wrapped up in them in his desperation. "Fuck, fuck, could you, can you...."

"No." He twitched his finger a little, felt the hitch in Jim's chest, the squirm of Jim's back against his arm and then his arm against the brick. It was dirty and a little vicious, and god, it was perfect. His cheeks squeezed around every shift of his hand, the tight pressure of his hole around Bastian's fingers steady and delicious, the struggling leading to a steady gasp of pleasure.

"Please." It was gritted out between his teeth even as he managed to get his trousers pushed further down his thighs.

He pulled back his hand, left Jim open and empty for a moment so he had a hand free to get to the lube in his pocket. It wasn't the rushed thing he wanted to do, but he needed to do it or they'd both regret it. Then again, Jim would probably laugh about it every time his ass struck the seat of a chair. That was how he was as often as not, although the noise he made when Bastian finally managed to get slick fingers back into him said that he appreciated the effort.

They were still in sight of CCTV, and almost anyone could walk by and see them. It was clear that Jim didn't fucking care because he was spreading his knees apart as far as possible, pushing himself back to the third finger when Bastian got it into him.

It felt better slick, messy, Jim's ass hot and tight and starting to really relax at the same time. He twisted that third finger, and then pulled out. "Turn around." It wouldn't work face to face, not unless he wanted to fuck up Jim's back beyond repair and crack him in half. It gave the CCTV a better view if Jim turned his tight little ass around, showed it off, pushed it out so that it practically wagged in invitation.

"Any time now." Sing-song, that voice, half invitation and half demanding. Little bastard.

Bastian enjoyed it more when he got to smear Jim's face against the bricks. He took his time lining his dick up, pressing in slowly. "Tell me how much you want it, Jimmy."

"I want it." Velvet-dark and demanding, and then he looked back over his shoulder just enough, and there was something in the way he looked, something that was almost.... almost... and it was enough. It was everything, and god, it made it nearly impossible to keep up the steady pushing drill into that ass. "Fuck me, for god's sake. Make me your whore."

Right there, the way his mouth moved slow and lazy when he said it made Bastian shove in hard enough to make Jim's eyes go unfocused with more than just a fancy display of fucking with Bastian's emotions. That was out of his control and worth savouring, as much as the tight clench around him as he shoved the rest of the way in, hip bones pressed desperately against Jim's ass, hard enough to bruise. The fact that Jim didn't pull away, didn't try to fight him, it made him want to do it all the more, harder, and he curled one hand around his hip, the other still holding him pressed against the wall.

"Ungh..." Little sound, so small and somewhere between willing and hurting, the sound Jim might have made if Mycroft Holmes had given in to what must have been a consuming desire, nearly impossible to resist.

"You want this, baby." He leaned in, licked the curve of Jim's ear because he could, because Jim's skin tasted faintly like expensive soap, lotion, sugary exfoliants and expensive things that kept that youthful vibrancy in with all the ill-behavior. Bastian snapped his hips backwards, and then back in again. "And not from anyone else."

God, he was good. This? This was just one of the many reasons that he kept coming back, that he didn't write Jim off as some crazy little motherfucker and let some government somewhere pay him exorbitant amounts of money to shoot people from impossible distances. Jim just kept pushing back, shoving himself to meet every inward thrust, and he was making sounds that could easily attract attention from the street, moaning and writhing with what looked like desperation to get away as much as a raging desire to get fucked blind.

They had to make it fast -- too long, too slow and someone would report them to the police, make it hard for them to get away, and if Jim's ass got nabbed by the police from a fuck, he'd regret it for the rest of his short life.

His very short fucking life.

The hand on Jim's hip slipped round and he began to stroke, unsurprised when Jim gave a broken moan that shivered through his entire body. God, this was... he loved this. There was no way he would ever give this up, not ever, and Bastian shoved in hard again, and again, and there. There it was, Jim coming all over his hand, and fuck, that was... yes.

Dirty, and he wiped his palm on the bricks, braced himself while he thrust harder, fucking shocked sounding noises out of Jim while he came, moving through, past his orgasm to keep Jim wanton and needy and startled. No lingering, though, and he pulled out as soon as he was done, a little rough, abrasive.

Reaching down, he slid a couple of fingers in behind himself, all lube and messy leavings and Jim moaning in a way that sounded wanton, slutty, a little like it was too much. "Oh. God."

"You love this," he reminded Jim. "All fucked open and leaking and the whole fucking world can see what a slut you are."

"Mmmmmm. Oh, honey, you know I love it." Dirty little peak, and that grin. That grin right there.

Yeah. All dirty enjoyment, while he pulled out his fingers and pulled up Jim's trousers. "C'mon, before someone comes to put a stop to our fun."

The smirk, the way Jim looked at him, it meant trouble. Capital T trouble, in fact. "And then we can see how our little video was received. Besides. I have an idea."

Bastian let his fingers linger over the buttons, and zipped himself back up. Their fingers, his fingers, were a sex-mess, but his car wasn't far. He didn't expect much by way of a problem to get back to it. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes." Yes, and that manic gleam was a little terrifying, or maybe even a lot. "Let's go home. I need to plan."

He hooked an arm around Jim's waist, and started to drag him down the alley the other way from where they'd come. "Tell me if you want help."

He probably wouldn't. Most likely. Still, there was something, a little frisson of horror at the possibility of a future that he couldn't quite taste yet. It was there, at the edge of this, teasing at him, but there was no point in worrying at it.

That time would come all on its own.

"I'm sure I'll think of something you can do."


End file.
